Chapter Ten
Early the following morning, a small, cloaked figure stole out the mighty gates of Langdon Castle, astride a snowy-white horse. The horse and rider made their way through the forest to a small, crude hut, its one occupant—or two, if one counted the cat—came to the door before the visitor could so much as knock.
"Ah, Lana, I've been expecting you," Isolde greeted, her face breaking into a welcoming smile.
"You know my name?" Lana asked, not expecting that.
"And that surprises you because…?"
"Good point." She entered the hut. The crisp morning air carried a bite that cut right through her cloak, but the hut was surprisingly warm and cozy. A fire burned in the hearth, and Isolde's fat black cat was curled up contently before it. It surveyed Lana through lazy green eyes as she walked in.
"Have a seat," Isolde invited, indicating the two old wooden chairs before the fire. "I'm afraid I haven't much, but I so rarely have visitors."
"That's OK. Thank you for having me." Lana sank down onto one of the chairs. The cat strolled over toward her, rubbed against her legs. "Hey there," she said, reaching down to scratch its velvety head. A low purr rumbled from its throat.
"You've come to see me about the young man," Isolde said. It was a statement, not a question.
Not for the first time, a shiver slid down Lana's spine at the woman's ability to read minds. "I suppose there's no point in asking how you know that."
"Smart girl. I like that."
Lana returned the woman's smile, fidgeting with her skirt. So much for casually working the subject into the conversation. "I notice I've been having some of Lianne's memories. I was wondering… could it be that I'm having her feelings as well?"
"Feelings about what?"
"About Clark—er, Kendrick." Lord, she was blushing like a seventh-grader during sex ed. What was wrong with her?
"I see." Isolde regarded her with an unnervingly knowing gaze. "You and your young man have formed an attachment."
"Well, I wouldn't say that," Lana mumbled. "But I've been having feelings… and I wonder if it's possible if Lianne and Kendrick's feelings are somehow coming through to us."
"Is that what you think? That whatever you're feeling for your Clark isn't real?"
"Well, yeah," Lana answered. "Maybe…"
Isolde looked at her thoughtfully, and Lana began to squirm under the woman's gaze. "This is powerful magic, my child," Isolde said after a moment. "Even I haven't a full grasp of what it's capable of. But I can tell you that Lianne is there inside of you, as Kendrick is inside of Clark. Until you are returned to your time, they will be a part of you. Vestiges of them, like memories, can come through. But such complex feelings as love cannot transcend. Perhaps you might feel a kinship with your young man, or a vague pull toward him, but nothing more."
Lana gulped. This wasn't what she wanted to hear. "So you mean… my feelings for Clark are real?"
"If you ask if they are your own, then yes."
Lana had begun to feel lightheaded. Maybe she shouldn't have cut out of morning mass without so much as breakfast. "I… I should go. Sorry if I disturbed you. Thank you for your time, Isolde."
"You know you are welcome anytime, my child."
Lana rose slowly to her feet. She was about to go to the door when a light touch on her arm stilled her.
"Here," Isolde said. "I want you to take this with you."
Lana watched as the old woman handed her a small amulet. It was a tiny glass ball, hung on a silver chain. Inside the ball was a tiny, beautiful little flower, colored bright yellow with orangey pinks at its center. The colors of the sunset.
"'Tis a charm to protect unmarried girls," Isolde explained. "It works quite well. Keep it on you. 'Twill prevent you from getting with child, unless of course it is the Goddess's will."
"You mean this is some form of medieval birth control?" Lana eyed the necklace skeptically. A thought of the occasion that required it flashed through her mind, sending a warming tingle to her cheeks.
"I'm afraid I do not understand you," Isolde said. "But it's very important that you wear it. Even if you think you'll not need it, you will find that affairs of the heart are not always easy to control."
Wasn't that the truth. Lana nodded, awkwardly gripping the charm. "Thank you, Isolde."
The old woman merely smiled, a knowing twinkle in her pale blue eyes.
Lana exited the hut. "You shall know love, my child," Isolde murmured after Lana's retreating figure. "Oh, the happiness you could both share if you would only let yourselves. He loves you. And I can see that you love him, too."
Lana gripped the amulet, the metal growing warm against her sweaty palm. The whole idea was ludicrous. It was hokey. It was…
It was the only thing she had.
I'm never going to need it, she told herself, stuffing the amulet into her coin purse.
Or would she?
Memories of her conversation with Gillian flashed through her mind as she rode through the woods. She was actually grateful for the long ride, for a chance to clear her head. Her talk with Isolde left her confused, distraught, overwhelmed… and kind of thrilled.
It can't be, Lana told herself, firmly. I'm not that stupid. I can't be falling for Clark all over again.
Lust, that was all it was. She was seventeen, for Pete's sake. Full of hormones. It was the thin linen shirts. The hose. The fact that he looked so damn sexy wielding a sword.
The fact that he always knew just what to say to her, just how to look at her to make her lose control of her senses and all of her cool. Just how to show up in time to save her life. Just how to kiss her and make her forget that anything and anyone existed but him.
The proverbial one that got away.
It didn't have to be that way…
Oh, what am I going to do? Lana lamented, gazing over the mist-blanketed vista that was Langdon Castle. There was no use denying it. She was madly, insanely, against-her-better-judgment-head-over-heels in love with Clark Kent. Again.
She was wondering if she ever really fell out of love with him in the first place.
A treat was in store for the occupants of Langdon Castle. A group of jongleurs--traveling minstrels--had found their way to the castle, and were invited by Lady Anne to perform. Lady Anne assured them Lady Lianne wouldn't mind, and that she gave her leave to speak in her stead should an issue arise in her absence.
By nightfall, the Great Hall was crowded with revelers. Knights and ladies alike toasted the visitors, who launched into a lively medieval ditty. They played the lute, drums, tambourine, various woodwinds, and a guitar-like instrument Gillian called a rebec. The jongleurs were dressed in gaily-colored tunics and hose that appeared to be patched of multiple fabrics. Parti-colored clothing, according to Gillian, was quite the fashion.
Clark watched as Lana and Gillian entered the Great Hall. He wasn't the only one. The pair attracted the attention of quite a few young knights, and it wasn't hard to see why. Lord, she is so damn beautiful, he thought, his gaze fixed on Lana. Gowned in yellow silk, her hair held back by a gold circlet and flowing in silky dark waves over her shoulders, she had never looked so radiant. He could not help but notice how the tightly laced bodice clung to every curve, how the neckline plunged just low enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of décolletage. But most fetching of all was the brilliant smile that illuminated her face, her silvery laughter drifting across the hall like a cool breeze.
Gillian walked beside her, gowned in midnight-blue silk. Her hair cascaded down her back, pale and striking against the fabric. She seemed oblivious to her and Lana's myriad admirers as she scanned the hall for Clark.
Sighting him, she broke into a brilliant smile, but did not wave. For a lady of her station to do so would be horrifically gauche. Lana's eyes found Clark's and held them a moment, before she hesitantly followed Gillian.
"You look amazing," Clark said as soon as Lana approached him.
She smiled, her cheeks tinged a faint pink. "So do you."
Tonight he wore one of Kendrick's finest tunics. Made of rich blue brocade, it had enough jewels affixed to it to do any rapper proud. With it he wore Kendrick's dress hose, which were nearly skintight. It was a real shame spandex wouldn't come around for another 750 years or so, because their tightness made it difficult to move.
"I kinda dig medieval style," Lana kidded. "Now it's the guys who have to suffer in tight clothes."
"Ha ha. Have your fun while it lasts," Clark cracked.
"Oh, I will," she joked, but his words brought with them the somber reminder of how far from home they were. Would they ever see Smallville again? But with all the festivity going on around them, it was impossible to stay serious for too long. The music was rousing; several courtiers had already taken to the floor. They lined up at its center and began a synchronized dance much like American square dance.
"Oh, wow!" Gillian exclaimed. "This is so awesome… the Anachronism Society has reenacted medieval dances, but now I'm seeing them as they were actually done!"
"So you know how to do it?" Clark asked.
"More or less." Gillian grinned archly at him. "Want to have a go?"
He shook his head. "I think I'll hold off on making a total fool of myself in public for now. It's bad enough I'm dressed like a member of 'N Sync."
"Actually, I think it's look kinda sexy," Gillian said playfully. "Don't you agree, Lana?"
Lana began to look extremely uncomfortable, but managed a smile for Gillian's sake. "Justin who?"
Gillian laughed. "So are you two seriously going to stand here like a couple of wallflowers, or are you going to dance? Come on! It's a feast. You know what? I think you need more wine." She scuttled off.
Lana grinned, shaking her head. "That Gillian is something else, huh?"
"You can say that again." He watched the vivacious beauty as she approached a handsome blond knight and proceeded to turn him into a stammering idiot within seconds. It wasn't very hard to fall victim to Gillian's charms, that was for sure.
The jongleurs switched to a slower song, a hauntingly beautiful ballad. It's too bad I can't understand the words, Clark reflected. But maybe it was just as well. Did he really need to hear an angsty love song when he was standing here with Lana?
Everyone was dancing except them. It hadn't taken long for Gillian's blond knight to ask her to dance, and pretty much everyone had a partner, even the gawky adolescent squires. Would one dance really hurt? It was only for a few minutes…
"So," he asked Lana hesitantly, making up his mind, "do you think we could handle this?"
Her throat bobbed delicately as she swallowed. "Are you asking me to dance?"
"Um, well, yeah." That was smooth, he thought sarcastically.
An uncertain smile spread across her features. "Well… OK…"
He held his arm out to her, unable to ignore the spark that passed between them as she took it. There was a marked undercurrent of tension between them as they took to the floor. He felt uncomfortable, tentative, as he pulled her close. Lord, you'd think he was some floundering freshman who did a great impression of a tongue-tied idiot any time Lana came anywhere near him. She wasn't even wearing the kryptonite necklace! But, he just noticed, she was wearing a new necklace, one he hadn't seen before.
"Is that necklace one of Lianne's?" he asked, hoping to break the tension with conversation. All he succeeded in doing was reminding her that he'd been looking at her chest.
Which seemed to disquiet her greatly. "Er… yeah. I, um, found it. I thought it was pretty so I wore it."
"It is pretty. Very unusual."
She gave a brief, tight smile and said nothing.
You are an idiot, he berated himself, scrambling for something appropriately innocuous to talk about. "This is a nice song, don't you think?"
"Yeah," she agreed. "I wish I could understand the words. It's in Middle French, isn't it?"
"Sounds like it. Maybe Gillian understands it… I know she speaks Middle French."
"Yeah… but she seems a bit busy at the moment." Lana glanced toward the girl in question, who was dancing with the handsome blond knight.
They spent the remainder of the song making small talk, or at least Clark thought they did, but he couldn't remember a word they said. Fortunately, the jongleurs soon launched into another upbeat number. A peal of delightfully feminine laughter drew their attention to Gillian, who was dancing a lively jig with the blond knight. It looked like fun.
Clark turned to Lana with a what-the-hell smile on his face. "Want to try it?"
Lana shook her head. "I'm definitely going to need more wine before I try that!"
"Then maybe we should remedy that problem."
"Good idea." With a smile borne as much of relief as of affection, she followed him off the floor.
Wine was good. Wine made people happy. Wine involved very little bodily contact.
Because he honestly didn't know how he was going to handle it if he had to have any more bodily contact with Lana tonight.